


Fight It Out (Private World War Remix)

by navaan



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pining, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Remix, Self-Sacrificing Tony Stark, What-If, World War Hulk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: Tony tries to hold things together after Steve dies on the courthouse steps. But grief isn't the end of his troubles. Steve comes back to life before/duringWorld War Hulkand he and Tony are set against each other in the arena.





	Fight It Out (Private World War Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ironlawyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironlawyer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Our Private World War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673348) by [Ironlawyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironlawyer/pseuds/Ironlawyer). 



> This is a remix of the wonderful fic Our Private World War by Ironlawyer written for the cap-ironman Remix Exchange 2018. You should absolutely read that along with this fic and leave some love. I was very interested in the concept of having Steve alive during World War Hulk and this is why I chose her awesome fic for the remix

He was dressed in the black SHIELD uniform for once because Dugan had none too gently reminded him that here he was supposed to be the Director of SHIELD – not a businessman in a posh suit and not a “costumed clown”. For the sake of troupe morale, Tony had decided to follow the advice, although he knew it would do nothing at all to make him a better fit for this job in any of the agents' minds. By the way Dugan was looking him over right now it wasn't working for him either. He narrowed his eyes like Tony was a kid playing at being a grown-up.

Tony had seen this particular look countless times before on the faces of people who underestimated him, but also most recently on the faces of former friends opposing registration and Tony.

_Steve. Most certainly on Steve's face._

The thought of Steve was like an icy blade pushed into his gut _every single time_. 

_My fault_ , he thought. _I put him on these steps. I lost his respect, his friendship and then I let him be murdered. I might as well have delivered the final blow myself. However much we were fighting, that's not what I wanted... At least I should have been there to stop it._

The nightmares came every night - with Steve's body bleeding out before the medics even found a way to get through to him, sometimes with Steve standing over him saying: “It should have been you, Tony. It should have been you.” He was sure they would never stop.

And he didn't want them to.

This was his burden. 

He had killed the man he'd loved more than anything, and he hadn't even told him that.

What would Steve say to him now that Tony was standing here in Fury's old office and putting up a panel with armor parts arranged on it like they were part of the surface and like the whole thing didn't weigh more than a painting? Would he laugh at him for ending up here? Would he look at him with a grim smile? Would he fold his arms in anger and glare, because his handling of the panel hinted at the Extremis virus in his body? 

Dugan was eyeing the panel with a dark frown, showing quite clearly that he was thinking that putting this up behind his desk like a self-aggrandizing artwork was another eccentric mistake that would make agents hate his guts more. 

Right now Tony couldn't care less for any agents personal grudge against him. These days there was pretty much no place on earth where he didn't have to watch his back. Having an armor on call everywhere was only smart and making it look like it wasn't an armor at all was even smarter.

“This is important,” Dugan reminded him as if he had finally decided he'd had enough of his new rich-man-playing-at-soldier boss, and dropped a file marked as “TOP SECRET” on his desk. Tony knew what was in it. He was Director of SHIELD now and made it his business to know all important developments that had a potential to become the kind of crisis SHIELD dealt with.

He nodded at Dugan. “Don't worry,” he told him with just a hint of exasperation. “Foreseeing problems and finding solutions for them before they even arise is what I do. I'm on it.”

With a nod Dugan was dismissed.

Standing straight – military man standing at attention – but narrowing his eyes, Dugan nodded tightly and then spun around to walk away. “Hell lot of good it did so far,” Dugan muttered under his breath just before the glass door closed behind him.

Tony let out a breath and let himself fall into the chair behind his desk. The SHIELD uniform was exactly as uncomfortable as he had feared.

Who were they kidding, really? He might as well go back to walking in and out of here in the armor – or an Armani suit. Everyone would keep hating his guts because he was the one who had taken Nick Fury's place. Thanks to Extremis he was acutely aware of the things agents whispered to each other when he was out of earshot and none of it had been very nice so far.

He wasn't just the new guy. He was the _wrong_ guy in their eyes.

 _Cap I could have taken? Stark? Please!_ one nice agent had whispered behind his back where he could hear it just this morning.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Extremis was murmuring information and stats at the back of his mind and in Texas an armor had activated under his guidance to take care of a minor supervillain incident. The headache of the day kept building. 

“Joke's on me, Steve, isn't it?” he whispered to the empty room. “I'm not Nick, and I'm sure as hell not you, but someone has to do the fucking job.”

From the darkness of his own nightmares Steve said: “Everyone gets what they deserve, Tony. You wanted everyone to be accountable? Now take responsibility. Your choices brought you here.”

Hunched over he sat there for another 2.4 minutes.

Then he dragged himself into a standing position, straightened his back and went out – to be Director of fucking SHIELD and goddamn Iron Man and all of it with his best and very faked PR smile. With a last look at the armor on the wall – a silent backdoor into this room at all times, the secret eyes and ears for him and Extremis keeping the room safe – he walked out of his office to do the best he could to keep the world from imploding today.

Steve was laughing at him from the grave.

* * *

People liked to tell Tony about his faults. Who more than Tony Stark needed to be taken down a peg, forced to face the reality he wasn't ever confronted with in the ivory tower of his carefree life of the rich, famous and powerful? Tony knew what other people got to see of him and he knew even better how much of himself he actually allowed to show. Still, it stung when people he had known for a long time still thought of him as nothing more than an arrogant billionaire.

Luke Cage calling him a treacherous snake today – even though it was a heartfelt sentiment and delivered with choice words that followed – was just one way of it.

SHIELD agents – his _own_ agents - felt they needed to point out to him how Fury had done things at every turn and how he would do things now if he were still in charge. The implication that not running things like Nick Fury _always had_ was a grave mistake was so clear in every mention of the name that there wasn't even a need for the actual words to be spoken anymore. Tony got it: He was at fault because he wasn't Nick – and even worse, he wasn't one of _them_.

To SHIELD he was an intruder – and thus it didn't even matter that Nick Fury had not been perfect either.

The disagreements changed with every mission, crisis or problem, but the core accusation remained the same. Tony had no place at SHIELD. 

So he worked harder.

To show that he knew his stuff, to build trust, to assert himself.

“It's a mistake,” Dugan warned and Tony completely disregarded him, calling the armor to himself with a thought. 

“Maybe,” he said. “But I am in charge and this is how we're doing it now.” 

He tried for a good Captain America expression and knew he was falling short; he'd always fallen short where Steve was concerned. It was enough to remember the look in Steve's eyes the last time he and Tony had faced each other to bring it all back – with Steve behind bars and Tony struggling to keep it together on the other side of them, angry, shaken, sad. 

A short time later Steve had been dead.

Because that was what happened when Tony got distracted when he slipped up and made the _real_ mistakes: People paid the price.

From a young age he had been thought to think great and use his engineering gift – but he had learned the cost of his mistakes the hard way. Iron Man had been born that way. And since then Tony had become better, had pushed the envelope of engineering, had found solutions, was trying to build the future and enhance Iron Man, had adapted and evolved thanks to Extremis. He knew that every discovery and every step of progress came with a risk. The danger that came with miscalculations and mistakes had grown exponentially and so had his need to prepare contingencies for it.

Tony knew contingencies were needed.

_Steve dead on the courthouse steps._

_A black empty coffin buried because they couldn't leave Steve's body out where it could be found._

More than any of the agents around him Tony knew the price of slipping up.

When he sat down to prepare for disaster, then it was always to prepare for his own mistakes, for his own failure, his own ghost come to haunt him.

What happened when he fucked up was what kept him awake at night.

Most nights.

Every night.

_How hard are you laughing, Steve?_

And in his mind Steve answered sternly: _You think this is funny, Stark?_

* * *

Extremis remained tapped into satellites; sometimes when Tony couldn't sleep – which since Steve's death had been the rule more than the exception – he let the data flood his mind and looked at the stars. Space in its own way was lethal and beautiful. He watched for the void sometimes and wondered what had happened to Bruce and if somewhere among the alien races they had only heard of the Hulk had found a place where he could smash to his heart's content.

Was the Hulk out there happy, while Tony's life fell apart down here?

If Hulk hadn't reached a planet, found a new world, – and Tony knew he had taken a calculated risk that Hulk would never actually arrive anywhere until he got angry enough to smash his little spaceship from the inside out – then they could only hope he never returned.

His rage would be limitless and more destructive than anything they had seen so far.

* * *

Dugan warned him time and time again that being the Director of SHIELD meant he had to stay behind the lines and direct his people from the safety of the Helicarrier – not go out like the superhero. 

Tony listened to the calm admonition from behind his desk. He hadn't bothered with the SHIELD uniform today. It was so much easier to rip off a Tom Ford shirt when he needed the armor.

“Are you finished?” he asked. 

Dugan nodded.

For someone who had worked with Nick Fury for all those years Dugan had strangely managed to preserve the air of the honest man. Tony supposed that it was a quality Nick had appreciated in his right-hand man. Tony appreciated it too. 

“Can I ask you something? If Cap were here – put in my place, would you tell him not to take up the shield?” 

Dugan looked sour and then said: “He _isn't_ here.”

Although he'd been the one to bring it up is felt like he'd been punched.

But Dugan continued: “I would tell him, yes. He would do what he thought was right. Never one to stay out of a fight.”

“Right,” Tony said and retaliated, although he was now making his point just to end the conversation, “and neither was Nick Fury. I do what I think I need to do. Ultimately I will be judged by my actions, so let me make my mistakes. It only means you'll be rid of me sooner if you're right about me – and I might convince you if you're wrong.”

With a bitter half-smile Dugan inclined his head in tersely given agreement. 

It didn't change a thing, but it seemed they were working out an understanding.

And Tony had a feeling when push came to shove, Dugan was the one person on the Hellicarrier he wanted at his back while he played this game of intelligence and politics that he had put himself in the middle of.

 _Yes_ , he thought, _Steve would laugh at you, Tony. And it would be a bitter, angry sound and you'd deserve the unforgiving stare that would go with it, but damn wouldn't you right out love it if he were here to disapprove of what you did to yourself? If it only meant he were alive?_

His face was a frozen mask these days, unmovable like the faceplate he liked to hide behind.

Inside he was screaming.

* * *

Extremis sent him the early warning of an object approaching in the early morning hours. 

For the first time in days he had found the time to hole up in the workshop – far away from prying eyes, and the temptation to fight the nightmares with the treacherous aid of a drink. He knew Carol was right, that he needed a meeting, but it was hard to slip out of any of his duties without tipping off the wrong people. The last thing he needed was attention to be drawn to his own struggles.

Or at least that was the lie he kept telling himself.

 _Everything_ was more important than self-care.

 _Steve would have given you an ear full_ , he thought.

By the time he emerged from the workshop the approaching object wasn't much more than a small blib on the outskirts of Earth's security zone. They faced danger from space frequently enough that Tony looked at the data to monitor the threat and then looked away again to make sure the more immediate problems got taken care of.

By the time it was clear that a spaceship was closing in on Earth, Tony was sitting in Washington office talking to a senator and trying to direct the first line of defense without even stopping the talks. One spaceship against an army of Iron Men? Extremis had made it possible to be in more than one place at once and there was no reason to expect anything but a minor skirmish. Like human beings, aliens got lost sometimes.

This was his first miscalculation that day – but his second mistake in this war.

All suits he had out there were destroyed in minutes and he had to leave the talks with the mother of all headaches and the terrible realization that some of his contingencies would be needed soon.

Only a short time later, the Hulk named his betrayers and brought the fight to them.

* * *

He could feel Extremis working away on his bones, mending what it could as fast as his condition allowed it. The Hulk had ripped him from his newest Hulkbuster model with an angry strength that went beyond anything Tony had expected and now he was bloodied and beaten, barely strong enough to keep upright.

Extremis was tackling this problem too.

At the back of his head he could feel Extremis working, could hear it whispering at him because someone had entered his office at SHIELD. Tony shut off the connection tightly, not sure what kind of alien tech they were going to use on him to keep him down. A metal stick was pushed into his back and he stumbled forward. A burly bug-like alien grabbed him by the neck and hurled him around like he weighed nothing. He lost his footing, got shoved and crashed into the wall with a sickening crack of bones and had the air knocked out of his lungs. For a searing hot moment that lasted too long, his whole body was pain and Extremis reacted instantly, trying to reach out.

“Don't botha tra'in,” the alien clicked. “Woon'd do ya good. Communication jaam''”

Tony groaned, let himself roll on his back and tasted blood on his lips. The Hulk smashing him around must have done even more harm than he thought. Breathing hurt and he had the bad feeling that the blood wasn't coming from the split lip.

No time to dwell on it though.

His head was still swimming, when the female alien who seemed to be the one in charge around here, looked down on him and then nodded at her guards.

A hand came down with a spherical device and Tony prepared for pain, but what came was more than pain. His body was set on fire from the inside out as Extremis was screaming against the intrusion of the device. Suddenly even _thinking_ became hard. Breathing stopped, the world stopped.

He gave up.

Extremis fought on.

He ended up on his stomach with his cheek plastered against the floor, blood and spit trickling from his mouth. With his last strength, he fought the need to curl up like a child.

The aliens laughed and went away.

But Extremis was still online.

And Dugan had just entered Tony's office on the Helicarrier, talking loudly and angrily to himself – and Tony.

 _The ghost you call upon yourself_ , Tony thought with a grim smile, as he activated the armor to inform Dugan about the state of things.

* * *

Tony got a message back to the armor in his office. Talking to Dugan made him feel like he had a plan. At least now he knew that someone was there to blow them all to hell along with the Hulk if all other options failed.

He could trust Dugan to do it, if – and only if – it was necessary. 

Not _all_ options had failed yet.

Tony still had a few tricks up his proverbial sleeve, even if real sleeves seemed like a luxury to him right now. His wrist where chaffing from the shackles and his bare arms were freezing cold.

Trying to revert attention from the fact that he had been whispering to someone who wasn't here just a moment ago, he groaned pitifully and tried to sit up.

“Shut up, human scum,” his alien guard spat and kicked him in the rips. “Get up. Your friends are waiting.”

He was dragged to his feet and pulled along, his naked feet stinging on the cold metal floors. He didn't care; he wasn't even afraid of what was going to happen next. Reckoning had come to find him and all he needed to do was buy the rest of the world some time. It would be easy enough to keep the Hulk's anger trained on the ones who had wronged him. If keeping his attention, bought everyone else the time they needed to find a solution, he was ready to do his best and do it and he had no right to judge him for unleashing it on himself and the rest of them who'd made themselves his judges. 

The tricky part would be surviving a truly angry Hulk.

 _Do you even want to?_ he asked himself, but it sounded strangely like Steve was whispering the thought in his ear from the darkness of his cold grave. _Isn't this the excuse you needed to give up? Leave it to someone else to clean up the messes you've made?_

_Why not? Every fork in the road just leads to even worse outcomes._

The disk never activated, because Tony didn't put up a fight.

Whatever revenge had been planned for him – _and wasn't the Hulk planning _anything_ while in a rage just another dark revelation?_ \- he'd let it be his judgment. 

He was pushed forward into a room where other heroes were huddled together and shackled like cattle. Reed was unconscious and propped up, tied inside a small cage in the middle of the room like he was on display. For the first time, Tony felt fear close its icy fingers around his heart.

 _This_ was what Hulk and his new friends had in store for Earth. 

This wasn't just taking revenge on the people who had sentenced him to an uncertain fate; Hulk had come for all of them, all who hadn't stood against the Illuminati, all who had at one time or another incurred his anger. 

And who hadn't?

The green giant had always been the pure personification of Bruce Banner's pent-up rage.

Shaken, Tony allowed himself to be pushed into a cage of his own, felt the disk in his chest zap him and make his knees buckle when he didn't go down quick enough. 

“Behave now. _He_ will take care of you soon.”

A small chuckle escaped his throat because right now that sounded like salvation. Harshly a stick was pushed into his already hurting rips hard to shut him up. Then new bonds wrapped around his naked chest and he ended up restrained in an uncomfortable sitting position in a cage opposite from Reed. He tried to consider the lock on the cage, but even trying to think about it hurt.

The disk would make sure that escape wouldn't come easy.

“The obedience disk will ensure you do as you're told,” the woman said as if she'd read his mind and then nodded to the room. “He will want you in shape, before the main event. Don't fight too hard or you'll be in no condition to entertain.”

Out of habit Extremis tried to reconnect to the networks of the outside world to gather more information and found itself blocked off. The disk directed immediately and Tony strained in the hold of the bonds, his body shaking with pain. His breathing became labored and painful. Desperate to free his arms, to double over, to curl up, he tried to call up the armor next, but an electric current from the cage shocked him so hard he felt his mind slip away. 

It was going to be one of those days.

One of the last maybe.

* * *

They brought in more prisoners, dragged some away at other times.

Tony tried to keep track, but his whole body ached and his mind felt blank like he was watching proceedings from inside a glass bowl. He had lost a fight to an angry Hulk, so he could be glad there was more left of him than a vaguely Tony shaped corpse - but was he going to be in good enough shape to help anyone else get out of here? 

He needed his mind clear to help the friends who'd been dragged down with him.

When he heard the door open and more shackles being dragged across the floor, he didn't feel he had the strength to raise his head, but then the prisoner they were holding put up a fight. The sounds of the skirmish were loud even in the overcrowded prison because nobody could talk or whisper with the disks in place. Tony pried his eyes open just in time to the body to hit his cage back first. The whole construction shook and the movement made him dizzy.

But he could see the human shape clearly, hanging in the air for a moment that seemed loner than it was. Then the person fell, landing hard on his front, grunting in pain.

The voice was familiar. Who was it they'd caught now?

Tony tried to get a better look, but the shaking hadn't subsided yet.

Guards moved over and the prisoner was rolled over on his back slowly. He wasn't fighting anymore. 

Tony stared right at his face.

Through the dizziness and pain Tony needed a moment to put two and two together. 

Steve.

He was seeing Steve.

He tried to lean forward in his rocking prison to get a better look and his heart stopped beating and his lungs didn't want to take more air.

Steve.

It was Steve.

There lying, head to the side on his back, unconscious, was Steve Rogers.

But Cap was dead.

How the hell could he be here?

How was it possible?

Was he seeing things?

Was _Tony_ the one unconscious and dreaming?

_Steve is dead._

He'd buried his body in the ice where they had found him.

He had _buried_ him.

Forgetting all about his situation he fought his bonds to get closer, to make sure he could trust his own two eyes. The obedience disk activated immediately pushing him back away from the bars and the lock on his cage door and Steve.

Tony let the pain wash through him, not caring.

This was a nightmare.

This couldn't be real. 

Steve was dead.

Steve couldn't be here sharing in this torture Tony had brought on all of them.

He nearly cried out in pain but bit down on his lip till it bled, trying to drown it out.

“You can't be Steve,” he said out loud, pressing it out between clenched teeth. “You can't be!” 

A guard rattled his cage. “Quiet now, human scum.”

The disk intensified the punishment. Tony didn't give in. 

_Skrull_ , he thought. _A goddam Skrull. Is this part of the torment? The revenge? Does Bruce know me well enough to know how to break me?_

Steve didn't even stir as the guards shackled him right beside Tony's cage.

 _Punishment_ , Tony thought and he could read on the face of his friends that were close enough for him to see that all of them agreed.

* * *

Steve came to a while later, when Tony had already decided that this Steve, who was a specter, wouldn't wake at all – a construct made to remind him of the blood on his hands. He had tried to get close to make sure Steve was breathing, but the obedience disk had not made any allowances. 

Drowsily, Steve moved his head and the first person he really looked at - after he had inspected the chains holding him in place - was Tony, likely because he was the closest, not because Steve was searching him out.

Tony kept quiet, listening to the steady beat of his own heart and willing himself to stay calm.

Steve was breathing. Steve was moving. Steve was evaluating the situation.

Alive.

Then Steve recognized him and sat up too fast, eyes narrowed. “Tony,” he said flatly and looked around. “What the hell?”

“Yeah,” he whispered weakly. “That.” But he had a feeling they were talking of different things.

From across the room Carol and Sue and Jen and Luke were all watching. Reed had still not opened his eyes.

“How could you?” Steve spat. The anger, the judgment – it was all there just like before. 

Tony let his head fall heavily again the bars he was tied to. There was no fight left in him. “What are you referring to exactly?” _SHRA, fighting, your death?_

“The Hulk! Banner! Look around you!”

Tony shrugged his heart steeling itself. “I hoped he'd find something,” he said vaguely, “something other than rage and destruction.”

Steve stared at him with his very own brand of disappointed anger, pulled at his chains until they were cutting into his flesh, then the pain brought him down – his own obedience disk activating for the first time. For a while, he lay there panting and writhing, fighting the disk every step of the way. His teeth clenched and he tried to sit back up and talk.

That was Steve for you. 

The man had never had it in him to give up without a fight.

“How are you even alive?” Tony whispered, the truth of it finally sinking in.

And Steve, through clenched teeth, shot back: “Damn it.” The disk was still activated.

Finally it knocked him out in front of Tony's eyes, slipped back into unconsciousness with as much fight as ever. Tony saw his eyes toll back into his head and his breathing even out.

Steve.

The real Steve.

Alive.

In pain, but alive.

Tony felt a tear run down his dirty, bruised cheek. 

This wasn't supposed to happen.

How was he supposed to think about what was to come with this right here in front of him?

It wasn't long until Steve stirred again. “Steve,” Tony whispered. “Steve, come on. Wake up, please. Come on.”

Everyone was watching the two of them in silence – registered heroes, unregistered heroes, friends, allies, and enemies. 

But Tony noted that not everyone was surprised. How long had Steve's allies known? How long had Steve been alive and let Tony believe he was dead? Had his death been a ruse all along?

“I died, Tony,” Steve whispered so quietly that Tony nearly missed it. “Puts some things into perspective.”

Tony tired to scoot a little closer to the bars and get a better look at him, but the disk started hurting as if it as warning him that even this little bit was too much. So he held back.

“I died,” Steve repeated.

“And I didn't save you,” Tony answered brokenly, felt the grief and tears brimming to the surface. “Puts things into perspective too.”

He wasn't sure what more to say, but then finally, he added: “I'm sorry.” Not sure at all he was asking for forgiveness for something he knew in his heart was unforgivable.

“You didn't kill me. I nearly killed you.”

Tony sat rigidly in his bonds, more aware now of his beaten, naked state than he had been since his imprisonment.

Beside the cage Steve pushed himself into a sitting position, gasped in pain as he leaned against the wall behind him. Eyeing the guards carefully, he asked: “Where the hell are we?”

“New York,” Tony whispered back, also keeping an eye on the guards. Even words were hurting as the obedience disk tired to force them back into silence.

“Plan?”

Tony remembered of the nuclear option he'd put into the hands of Dugan and thought: _I need to keep trying. I need the better option at all costs now. Steve is alive. He needs to be alive. I can't kill him again by failing._ Out loud he said: “Working on it.” 

With the bonds it was hard to even raise a hand up far enough to poke at obedience disk, but he hoped the quick, jerky gesture he was able to make brought the general idea of it home.

“How?” Steve asked weakly. He was only shackled and not as closely bound as Tony and touched the obedience disk in his own chest; it had been placed over his heart and right into the chain mail fabric of his uniform. That looked terribly uncomfortable. Pondering the device, Steve started prodding it until Tony wanted to ask him to leave it be, but the disk was faster and sent a jolt of intense pain through Steve's body that made him convulse and gasp.

“They are what keep us in check. It's technology. Alien. But technology. Working on it.”

Across from Tony Reed stirred in his cage. 

“Tony?”

Having found the first weaknesses in the disk's defenses, Extremis was collecting data again. Now he could try to circumvent the disk in earnest and he must have zoned out in the process.

“Tony? Are you alright?”

Was that worry in Steve's voice? For him? He must be making that up. But then he looked over and Steve was watching him with an equal amount of worry and caution. 

How?

How could he look at him at all?

Steve was alive. And he didn't hate Tony?

The thought should have warmed him, but Tony's life was still a nightmare. And he wasn't going to allow Steve to die here again because Tony had made a stupid miscalculation.

No.

It was time to find the superior solution.

* * *

The guards came for Reed first, then for Steve.

Being who he was, Steve did not go easily. The moment the guards freed him of his shackles, he attacked. The Sakaaran guards laughed, fighting the prisoner for no more than a second until the disk sent Steve down to the floor again. All fight bled out of Steve.

Tony was reminded of the moment when Steve fell, blood all around him, eyes closing, dying surrounded by people, hand in cuffs. He had seen the footage of it too often: Steve bleeding out in front of the cameras before the medics could even get close enough.

One of the bug-like Sakaaran's delivered a few choice kicks to Steve's side.

“Stop it,” Tony shouted, not caring about his own obedience disk or the punishment it would earn him at that very moment. “He has stopped resisting. Leave him the fuck alone!”

“Slaves need to learn,” the creature hissed. 

“Fuck you!”

“Tony,” Steve groaned. “Shut up.”

And with that Steve let himself be dragged away, throwing a last lingering look at Tony.

_Does he blame me for this as much as I blame myself?_

But he knew. Steve had asked for a plan.

Tony would work on providing one.

Failure wasn't an option.

* * *

They came back for Tony at last and Tony, mostly naked and not caring much about his state of undress, went with them without a fight. If the Hulk wanted to take his revenge he would get it. Tony knew he deserved it.

The stadium had been reverted to an arena and Hulk throned above it like a green emperor waiting for the games to begin.

Reed was there, Black Bolt, Stephen Strange, and Steve. All looked worse for wear.

“They made us fight to the death,” Hulk said conversationally and wasn't _that_ the scariest thing of them all? And then he grinned without any mirth. “On Sakaar. That was the life you gave me. Now let me give it back. You fight. Kill your friends. No mercy.”

“And if we won't?” Steve asked, stubborn and unyielding, just like Tony remembered him.

“You do not get a say. Let it begin,” the Hulk cried. Around them a crowd of humans and Sakaaran's roared. Weapons fell at their feet, a familiar shield among them.

“No, I won't,” Steve muttered and Tony saw him shaking, saw beads of sweat form on his brow.

“You will,” Hulk said. “And you will live with it.”

Tony stumbled backward the moment Steve's fingers closed around the edges of the shield. He couldn't call up the armor, but he knew what was going to happen next. The disk was pushing at his will too.

“I am sorry, Tony!” Steve shouted in warning and then it began, with the crowd booming in one voice: “Fight! Fight! Fight!” And then without wanting to all of them had their hands on crude weapons, shouting warnings at each other when they could break through the hold all obedience disks had on them, while they hit and slashed and stabbed at each other with all their might at the same time. 

Steve came for him again and again and it went all too quickly for Tony to find out if this was the Hulk directing them into a fight to the death or Steve's anger. “Get out of the way, Tony,” he warned before his shield came crashing down.

“Tony!” Reed shouted, dodging a hit that was meant for Tony just barely. Again Tony's armor failed to appear when called, Reed's powers were suppressed too, Strange was unable to use magic with his shattered hands... But Steve moved with the agility of the super soldier and he was coming after Tony and Tony alone now.

“I'm sorry. I'm trying to fight it,” Steve said through gritted teeth, as Tony barely managed to escape the edge of the shield.

“No,” Tony said, while Extremis was working away at the obedience disks as fast as he could make it. He was so close, so damn close. All he needed was another moment, another long fighting moment for Extremis. “No, Steve, I am sorry.”

And he launched himself forward, right at Steve and kissed him, the way he should have kissed him years ago before everything went to hell, finally revealing the truth in all the lies of the past months.

It broke the control of the disk for less than a split second, but Steve melted into it, surprised and fight shaken out of him for just long enough. Extremis was uploading the code to break them free just as arms settled around Tony's hips.

Then the control disk wrestled back control and Steve's hands came up, closed around Tony's throat. Tony could see the struggle, the fight, the way Steve tried to resist. “No, no, no, don't make me do it. I don't want to kill him. I don't want to... Banner! Don't make me...!”

Cap was begging for Tony's life. It was all wrong, so wrong to see him distressed and begging.

Even more so because it was for Tony. 

Tony reached up to put his hand around one of Steve's wrists and whispered. “It's fine, Steve.”

“Fight back, goddammit!” Steve begged of him.

“I could never.” Even under the strain of the disk, the nightmarish memory of Steve's dead body was more powerful than the pain.

Finally, the code was out.

He was so close. Disks nearly broken.

_Buy them another minute. Don't let Steve do it. Take the choice away from him. Take the blame. Come on, Tony. You can do that at least._

“Kill him,” the crowd roared.

Steve pushed him down to his knees and Tony didn't move away. The shield was raised above his head in a terrible repeat of the time when the shield had cracked the armor faceplate, nearly crushed his windpipe. 

This time no armor would protect him. But Tony smiled. 

The code had reached the network. It would take another minute or so for it to spread and take out the obedience disks.

He didn't have the time, but the disks would be obsolete soon – with or without him. His friends would be safe then.

Tony was no longer needed.

“Don't worry,” he said from the ground, while Steve was fighting for control, fighting to not let the shield rush down to smash Tony's head. 

As soon as Extremis could give him a moments control, he reached into his systems, felt the electricity zap through him as the weakening disk tried to stop him and initiated a shut down of heart and lungs. “It will all be fine, Steve. You're here to take care of it now. Don't worry.”

He fell, felt the moment everything stopped.

Then the shield came crashing down, but he was gone before he knew where it impacted.

* * *

Tony woke up after the fight in a medical bed in a SHIELD facility. Maya was standing nearby reading something on a chart. She looked stern and unimpressed and only glanced at his face for second before looking at the chart again.

“Welcome back,” someone said and he knew the voice immediately, would have known it anywhere. He looked over. Steve was sitting in a chair beside his bed, bruises all over his face, right arm in a sling.

“Aren't you dead?” Tony whispered, still not sure he could trust his brain not to be playing tricks on him with all that he'd been put through.

“About as dead as you are, I’d think,” Steve said and reached for Tony's hand and Tony grabbed it, trying to make sure it wasn't all a very painful apparition.

“You're not dead,” he whispered.

“No, neither are you. God, Tony, I am so sorry. So sorry...” Steve's voice broke and he leaned forward as if he couldn't take the grief.

“Why?” he asked weakly and with some difficulty tried to hold up a hand, presented it to Steve like proof of his condition. “No harm done. I think.”

Maya Hansen looked up at them and explained in a terse voice: “Extremis will have him all healed up shortly. He's an idiot, but he's going to live.”

“See?” Tony grinned, not sure it would come out at all convincing. 

“You were always an idiot,” Steve informed him, but without the heat and anger that Tony had come to expect - _before_.

He smiled. Nobody needed to know that he had not planned on leaving that arena, that he had only been thinking about Steve's chances to stay alive. Nobody but himself – and later he could lie to himself about that too.

Steve sighed heavily and leaned over, squeezing his hand tightly. “I was afraid I'd lose you before we got to talk. We'll have to talk, Tony.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but his eyes were falling shut. His body had had enough of this. And he was not going to fight out their differences about Registration right here and now.

“Sleep. But we will talk about what happened in the arena.”

A memory sparked.

Had he kissed Steve? 

He had, hadn't he?

Publicly.

Because he had thought he would get out of there alive to buy the others more time. Panic had no chance to rear its ugly head as darkness pulled him back under.

But this time he wasn't scared of the dreams that would come.

Distantly he heard a door open and Dugan ask: “How is he?”

“Banged up and stubborn as a mule.”

“Ah, so no change?” 

Vaguely, he remembered that he had given out a pardon to all unregistered heroes to help against Hulk. Steve was safe for the moment. The last thing Tony knew before he slipped out of consciousness was Steve squeezing his fingers affectionately as he chuckled at Dugan's joke.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me for fic updates on [tumblr](https://navaanwrites.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/navaanwrites). This fic has a post on the tumblr [here](https://navaanwrites.tumblr.com/post/171881595336/fight-it-out-private-world-war-remix-navaan?is_related_post=1) in case you want to share it.


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